


The Fates' Design

by yellowlightsaber



Category: Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure (Cartoon), Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, Tangled (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Star Wars Fusion, Alternate Universe - Tangled (2010) Fusion, But so is Rey, F/M, Inspired by Tangled (2010), Prostitution references, Star Wars - Freeform, Star Wars References, Tangled (2010) References, Underage Drinking, Underage Prostitution, ben is clueless as usual, catch rey drooling over shirtless ben, cus' baby yoda is down tiny and travel size, did somebody say baby yoda?, references to violence, this is going to be fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-22 20:54:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23200255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yellowlightsaber/pseuds/yellowlightsaber
Summary: orphaned. do not read.This story began long ago, at the mercy of the Fates’ design for the Universe.A single drop of sunlight fell from the heavens as a droplet of moonlight descended in the cover of night. These small dots of radiance developed into the Sundrop Stone and the Moonlight Opal, each equipped with its own powerful abilities to heal the sick and injured, prolong one’s life or bring decay to all.And all one had to do was sing a special song.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Leia Organa/Han Solo, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Satine Kryze, Rey & Ben Solo, Rey & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 32
Kudos: 48
Collections: 2021 Rewriting - theyellowsaber





	1. heal what has been hurt

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HeartSabers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeartSabers/gifts).



> A Tangled/Star Wars fusion that nobody asked for? Bet your ass that I did it!
> 
> MAJOR shout-out to my beta, [Tati!](https://twitter.com/HeartSabers)  
> I still blame you for this.

#  **heal what has been hurt**

* * *

The shuffling of various feet echoed on the thick unpigmented stained glass floor throughout the palace. Fading light beams glittered the ground, signaling the end of the day. Servants of the castle moved in quick haste — shambling in last-minute preparations for the festivities that will plague the day tomorrow. Demands and instructions carried weight over the celebrations of the townspeople nearby; bouncing off the refined carved ivory walls that dressed the Royal Palace of Alderaan, the Kingdom of the Sun. 

But all sense of commotion fell flat as the soon-to-be Queen Mother, Padme Adimala, made her way down the sprawling labyrinth towards the apartments of the royal family. She marveled at the sense of urgency that the loyal individuals, who served her house proudly, demonstrated. Generations of families hoarded under one roof, each treated with respect from their beloved ruler. 

All moved swiftly to bow or curtsy, prolonging arrangements for formality, and with a nod of her head, Padme dismissed her workers back to their original tasks. 

The Royal Coronation is set to begin precisely in the early afternoon. As the sun rises high over the kingdom, its rays of light shine down brightly to bless the new coming of the monarchs in the eyes of their subjects. With the ceremony fading into the late evening, it dawns on the time of the previous ruler as the final exchange of ceremonial jewels occurs. 

While every King and Queen held the option to forage their own custom-made crown for day-to-day operations, the successive ceremonial crown for the incoming ruler remained the same. The prized crown had been created long ago with the first Queen of Alderaan, thousands of years ago when the kingdom was nothing more than a small hub of the world. 

Twisted from the finest gold, it had been designed to curve around the head like a halo. The emblem of their proud nation carved right in the middle — the Sun leaking small droplets of citrine falling from its heavens. It symbolizes the story of Alderaan, on its ruler's head, of how a small town grew to be a kingdom with the blessing of the Sundrop Stone, eons ago.

A heavy sigh exhaled from the nearly-to-be Queen Mother as the doors to her chambers unlatched to welcome the aging woman home. 

Her staff halted from their duties to say their greetings, but she gestured a hand to stop them, quietly relieving them for the night. 

“Your Majesty, I must decline —” Her right-hand, Andrew Threepio, began to say but fell silent after reaching his eyes to meet the Queen’s glance. Without another comment, he took his leave along with the rest of the servants.

Once the door had been locked, it seemed that the weight of the world had fallen on her shoulders. 

Every night leading to the coronation, her body felt a little heavier with the guilt that has surrounded her since the beginning of her rule alongside her husband, Anakin Skywalker. They were an ambitious pair of younglings, campaigning for peace throughout the lands and prosperity for the people. Many of their laws had been put into place — regulations meant to strengthen their subjects, boost morale and shine happiness to those who may have lost it.

Yet despite all of their best efforts, before the death of the King, they could not end the War of the Century. 

Myths and rumors have been spoken down to every family house as to  _ why  _ they were at war with the Kingdom of Mandalore, the Kingdom of the Moon. 

Gossip of lost love, of broken promises and corrupted trade routes have all been said and all have been false. Truth of the fact had always been that no one, not even the Royal Family, knew why they pursued with the bloodshed. Any information for the root of the war had long been burned at the siege of Takodana, a small settlement that belonged to Alderaan and housed many of the old royal documents. 

Neither kingdom backed down from the war effort, each too afraid to have their pride shot down. But now, for their ignorant stubbornness, a new generation is being forced to pick up the war. 

A war she  _ swore  _ to end.

Her fingers twiddled with the gold chain of her cape — a fabric of lavender that draped over her shoulders and arms, enhanced with the beauty of aurum swan designs at the edges. Each of the birds held two small diamonds for eyes, protecting the reign of Skywalker from prying eyes. 

The material had been placed over an armrest when a soft knock chimed from a swing-away bookshelf at the corner of her living room.

The Royal Apartments of the Alderaan Palace had been created to be a complex maze. Other than the use of main doors, living quarters of the royal family were accessible by hidden doors, information that was strictly given to only members of the family and one-trusted handmaiden. Concealed panels connected all apartments with the use of lengthy passageways and corners, making it easy for the household to see one another without necessarily stepping out. 

“Come in,” 

A head of familiar brunette locks came into her viewing, stepping into the Queen’s chambers and was followed by a tall feature closely behind. Padme lips curled into a soft smile, taking a seat in the same chair that rested her elegant cape. “Leia, Han...” The sight of her daughter and son-in-law has always been a welcomed gesture, even when they were young and bickered with one another. It seemed as if it were a lifetime ago, now that they would be crowned King and Queen of Alderaan.

“What brings you this evening? With your coronation tomorrow, I was to assume you would retire early for the night.”

The young couple, only married for two years, looked at each other with a nod of compassion before returning their glance back to the Queen. It was Leia who sat on the chair across from her mother, while Han stood behind, a trouble expression on both their features.

“Mother…”

“What ails you, my light?” Her brow rose. “You wear the same look in your eyes when you have broken Luke’s arm as children.”

“That was an accident.” The princess mumbles, shaking her head as her husband holds back a chuckle. “Mother, Han and I have been talking —”

“If it doesn’t involve plans for grandchildren, I don’t see why the conversation couldn’t wait until the coronation was done.” Leia closes her eyes, exhaling a frustrated sigh. 

While she knew how to keep her composure, Padme has not been subtle about the need to have grandchild running around the palace, especially now that she will be stepping down. At any moment she could, the Queen would simply mention it, much to her daughter’s annoyance. 

“Your Majesty, we wanted to speak with you about the war.” Han broke the silence, his hands reaching over to rub his wife’s shoulders. 

“Mother…” Leia reached her hand forward, taking Padme’s and allowed her thumb to rub over the skin gently. “We know that you had tried to work with father to put an end to this war before his death on the battlefield. We know that it has not been easy during your rule, the liability you feel for our people and their aching hearts.”

“Padme, all that we want to say — “

“We promise to end this war. Whether it may end tomorrow, or in ten years, we vow to bring peace to our lands, and theirs.”

Tears trickled down her face as they pledged their honor. It was not that Padme did not believe they wouldn’t bring an end to this war, but the guilt would always remain that she could not finish it for them. 

Just as she promised.

Their rule as King and Queen Organa-Solo would begin with the promise of an end. 

With a faint smile, the Queen patted her daughter’s hand. “I know you will. I have much faith.”

♕ 

Silence.

On this rare occasion that Obi-Wan has found himself in, the King of Mandalore has been granted the luxury of stillness. In his daily life, this would be in contrast. From sunrise to sunset, the presence of his advisors, governors and war generals would seek his counsel. 

At the end of every night, a throbbing headache would greet the young king before his dinner course. 

However, today, he has been allowed the comfort of his own thoughts — debating among his inner critics for the right decisions before reaching a verdict. Yet with every issue that faded from his mind, a solution could not be compromised. The center of his attention remained on the light steel tinted window still, watching with a heavy heart as rows of soldiers entered through the kingdom gates. 

All ranks within his army worked endlessly to gather information and reports for their debriefing in the morning. Obi-Wan wanted to know everything — how many battles have been won, how many of their warriors have been injured, how many casualties suffered on both sides of the war. He needed to balance the weight of slaughter on his shoulders, to understand the meaning of it all. 

_ But at what cause? What was the point of this war? What endgame were we trying to reach long ago? _

The realization of this meaningless war has haunted Kenobi since the days of his youth, learning his role in the kingdom to uphold their principles and protect his subjects. Yet, six months into his reign, it only ever seemed that Obi-Wan had sent his soldiers marching into battle with a death wish as a chip on their shoulder. 

His sapphire hues darkened as the guilt for his subjects' fearless loyalty grew, averting away to stare at the various murals that garnished the grand throne room. 

The molten walls of silver that claimed the throne room had grown accustomed to the harsh conversations of battle or difficult discussions for the betterest of the kingdom. Celebrations of events were rare and limited — unless for the coronation of a new monarch or the birth of an heir. 

It always seemed quite a waste.

Pillars of lapis held the large marble dome ceiling overhead, sculpting stars at its thick base to shine on the panels of carved minerals that painted the regionalism history of the realm. Thousands of stars have been chiseled since the start of the kingdom and thousands of more will come far after his time, shining beams of celestial light on the distant ancestors.

A lunar circle that had been cut in the ceiling radiated luminescence at the center edge of the room, granting the blessing of the moon to the Mandalorian throne. The seat of the crown was wide, allowing the space to sit two equals — a king and queen. While the seat has been decorated in the finest gemstones, bearing the shades of cobalt, aquamarine, gray, and black, the true beauty laid behind it. A stained-glass window that portrayed the story of their origins, of how a single drop of moonlight that fell from the heavens created the Moonlight Opal and sparked the beginning of Mandalore. 

Slow and heavy footsteps echoed as Obi-Wan paced, seeking for an answer that he knew would not come. 

He pauses, turning his head to view the sculpted scenery before him. 

King Alexston Jamroy Kenobi, the first established ruler of Mandalore. He would go down in the history books as the warrior king, leading his army head-on into battle when the war began between them and the kingdom of Alderaan. Obi-Wan has often wondered what was going through his mind when the young realm had been sent into war, and if he knew they would remain fighting his battles thousands of years later.

Slim arms snaked at his middle, alerting Obi-Wan to the presence of his wife, Satine Kyrze. It gives him reason to rest, forgoing his appearance of king and dotting the mask of a tired husband. 

“You always seem to age by thirty years whenever you stand by Alexston.”

The teasing gesture of her voice causes the king to chuckle, easing away from the overwhelming thoughts that plagued his rule. Taking this as a good sign of faith, Satine secured herself at his side but never removed her arms. Her pale green eyes flashed a look of understanding to her husband, giving him a simple smile on her delicate features.

“Tell me, my love. Have you been able to please your inner critics with a situation for this war?”

It fell on him the way that Satine has always read him like a book. She would argue that Obi-Wan has always been her favorite book, one she could never put down despite the years they have known each other.

Instead of answering her question, he took a far greater interest in the silver halo crown that rested on her blonde hair. The symbol of his queen had been a gift for his bride-to-be after she accepted his proposal, a mere six years ago. They would be married four years later, after they toured the settlements of Mandalore and experienced an extended honeymoon period. 

Her crown had been forged with lustrous gold mined from the caves of the north, with thin strands of white gold sprouting upward to twist into bursting stars. Diamond gemstones swirled at the base of her crown, giving her the sense of  _ goddess _ that he has grown to adore.

King Obi-Wan Kenobi is known as the king of the moon, but Satine would remain his bursting stardust, always keeping him on his toes. 

“You know, I hope to one day pass this crown down to our daughter, or granddaughter.” Satine sighs, patting his back with a gentle hand to pull away and stand before him. 

He brings his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose while his free hand shoots forward, resting on the crave of her hips. “My stardust, you know I am tired of watching our citizens pick up weapons to defend our kingdom — for a reason that we’re not entirely sure why it began in the first place.” His thumb rubbed the soft teal cloth that hugged her body. “A century has passed and if neither kingdom has suggested the offering of peace before, what makes you believe that they will not give in to their pride and continue to drag on the war?” 

“All one needs is the courage to try.” her fingers toyed with a loose thread of his velvet cape, watching as it grew longer before adjusting to view her husband, calculating endlessly. “An olive branch is always a good start, my moon.”

“And if the Skywalkers don’t accept? — Pardon me, if the  _ Organa-Solos  _ don’t accept? Our pride and dignity would be mocked across the lands!”

“Then our family and legacy will never come about. We will be known as the last Kenobi’s.”

Upon the eve of their wedding vows, Satine had been firm on her decision to bear no children until the war of the century had been declared over. Their children needed to know the value of peace, not the strategies of war. She had grown up in the neighboring small republic of Coruscant, neutral and remained indifferent during the battles. Though she has proven her love for their kingdom and Obi-Wan, Satine knew that she could never welcome a child into the world and leave it with the possibility of them carrying on this war. 

Obi-Wan understood her distress, wishing that his father had never left him with a century-old war. So, he agreed not to leave their child with the burden. 

However, he needed to found a situation that would please his generals, his subjects, and, above all, his wife. 

Taking his defeat, he pulled his wife closer with a tight embrace, lips pressing a kiss to her forehead and mumbled, “An olive branch it is.”

♕ 

This story began long ago, at the mercy of the Fates’ design for the Universe. 

A single drop of sunlight fell from the heavens while a droplet of moonlight descended under the cover of night. These small dots of radiance developed into the Sundrop Stone and the Moonlight Opal, each equipped with its own powerful abilities to heal the sick and injured, prolong one’s life or bring decay to all. 

And all one had to do was sing a special song. 

At the marvel of its strength, settlements grew to protect the power they held from those who’d hoarded their powers for the use of greed and selfishness. The stones had been tucked away, only to be brought out in times of need.

These realms expanded to the Kingdoms of Alderaan and Mandalore, known in legend as the Kingdom of the Sun and the Kingdom of the Moon. 

Yet with these kingdoms equal in power, they were not allies. Wars had plagued their history for over a century. Children knew the scale of battlefields before they could read. Girls were equipped with arrows and boys fought to the last man with polished swords, often soaked in the blood of their enemies. Parents purchased gravesites, in hopes that they would never know the pain of burying their young. 

The War of the Century needed to end — not with the use of military tactics but with a peaceful diplomatic solution that would benefit both sides.

With the new reign of King, Han Solo, and Queen, Leia Organa-Solo, of Alderaan, they vowed to their Queen Mother, Padme Amidala, to put an end to this misery. While at the same time, in Mandalore, King Obi-Wan Kenobi promised his beloved Queen, Satine Kryze, that this war would come to a halt, so they could begin their journey with a family. 

Each kingdom agreed to a cease-fire and met in the Republic of Naboo, where discussions of peace would be overseen by Governor Snoke. Then, on one glorious day, after a month of difficult conversations, the kingdoms have reached an agreement that sent them into a new chapter of prosperity for all.

Warriors returned home, welcomed into the arms of loved ones and a generous appreciation from their monarchs. Trade grew for both kingdoms, sending waves of grander economic structure for all. Memorials were created for those who had lost their lives in battle. Lovers reunited to create their families and settle on purchased land. Businesses soared and it showed with the happiness of their subjects.

It was not long before the Kingdom of Alderaan had another reason to celebrate. They welcomed the birth of their heir, Prince Benjamin Solo-Organa. 

Two years later, the Kingdom of Mandalore had their own bash, welcoming their princess, Rey Kenobi-Kryze, born on the same day as Benjamin. 

Each of the Royal Couples were ecstatic for the growth of their families, knowing that the children will grow up together and sent a small spark to the kingdom’s subjects of potentially joining the kingdoms in the future to secure a legacy. 

Unknown to their parents, Ben and Rey had been born with the power of their kingdom's crystals. The energy of sunlight swam in Ben’s veins while the spirit of the moon beat against Rey’s heart. 

However, there was one individual, hidden deep in the shadows, who knew. 

To celebrate their joint-births, each of the kingdoms launched a flying lantern into the sky. It had been a tradition of Alderaan, which they invited the family, and their allies, of Mandalore to join in.

For that one moment, everything was perfect. And then that moment ended.

After the festivities of the children in their kingdoms, two kidnappings occurred. Someone had broken into the castle and stole the heirs, vanishing into the night without a trace. 

The kingdoms searched and searched, but they could not find them. 

Grieve turned to anger as the allies began to turn on one another, with the threat of war brewing once again. The first strike of war happened a month later when no new information on the children could be reported. 

Obi-Wan Kenobi launched a full-scale attack, gaining the power of the Moonlight Opal in his fit of rage. Leia Organa counterattacked, obtaining the Sundrop Stone from the guarded chambers to protect her people and search for her only child. 

The wrath of the broken-hearted parents caused the stones to crack under the explosion of fury. Battles continued on. The power of the stones could no longer be used, not until they were mended back together. 

But deep within the forest, in a hidden tower, there grew a child by the name of Ben, locked away from the outside world. While a baby girl by the name of Rey, grew up in a crowded orphanage. 

However, the walls of that tower and orphanage could not hide everything.

Each year, on their birthday, the King and Queen of both kingdoms respected a cease-fire and released thousands of lanterns into the sky. In hope that one day, their lost children would return.

♕ 

“Focus on the darkness and harness its power. It is a wave and you must control it, bending it to your own will. Now sing.” 

Nervous bare feet swayed on the creaking wooden floor, unable to meet the gaze of the older adult. The child grew fearful, shown in the way that they twirled with the hem of their shirt. “But… I don’t like to sing the song. It makes me… sad and feel dizzy.” 

Those had been the wrong words to speak. 

They lunged forward, grabbing the small child by the arm before bringing a firm slap on their smooth face. “I said,  _ sing. _ ” 

The child muffed their cries, swallowing down the unspoken sobs and straightened up. They knew it would be worse if they didn’t follow instructions. With a shaking sigh, they closed their eyes to breathe life to the incarnation, an eerie slumber voice replacing the frightened tone of a lost child.

“ _ Wither and decay, end this destiny. Break these earthly chains and set the spirit free. Take what has been hurt, grant them no mercy. Bend and break the reigns and set this spirit free. This spirit free _ .” 

The man curled his lips into a grin as he watched the child open their eyes, looking into the pool of black wickedness where the sockets would typically be. Hair swayed with an unjust wind blowing as he crackled in delight, knowing that this sense of wickedness belonged to him, and him alone.

♕ 

While in the distance, a battle that had roared on for days came to an abrupt end as soldiers began to drop on the battlefield. 

There had been no survivors for the act of sorcery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I am aware that Castle Organa is in Alderaan BUT for this fic, it screamed more to me as Mandalore with the way I am putting together a ton of places. There’s also a lot of details for both castles that I don’t want to give away until later chapters so please bear with me for the meantime!! 
> 
> [The crown Satine wears.](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/813392382687165112/)  
> [Inspiration for Mandalore.](https://clonewars.fandom.com/wiki/Sundari_Royal_Palace)  
> [Inspiration for Mandalore.](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Castle_Organa)  
> [Inspiration for Alderaan.](https://handluggageonly.co.uk/2018/09/08/herrenchiemsee-palace-one-of-the-most-beautiful-and-grandest-palaces-in-germany-you-have-to-visit/)  
> [Inspiration for Alderaan.](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Royal_Palace_of_Alderaan)  
> 


	2. and it’s only 8 in the morning!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can not….. express how much I wanted this chapter to be out after posting the prologue, especially with my timeline on Twitter constantly popping up with Reylo/Tangled inspiration artwork!! I'll def been tagging them in the bottom as those specific chapters pop up!! But for now, enjoy chapter one!!
> 
> Remember, I like comments, kudos, and bookmarks!

# and it’s only 8 in the morning!

* * *

* * *

For the Royal Palace to be on constant high alert, the lack of security should have been alarming to any onlooker. But for a thief with a plan, it created the perfect opportunity to invest in a bold idea. A crazy idea, but _bold._

With the Royal Guards and staff occupied in their preparations for the Name Day celebration that will transpire in three months, the chambers leading into the vaults had been left virtually unattended, alone with one old sleeping guard around the corner that everybody called _Sleepy_.

Kira Rider knew this to be a rather ambitious plan, even by her standards. Foolish, without a doubt. Nevertheless, ambitious with a profit to be earned. 

Perhaps one day, she’d be able to recount the tale to any soul who’d listen at an old pub with her skin aging and a belly full of rum — when the clouding threat of possible consequences didn’t float over her head. 

The Royal Palace of Alderaan had been constructed as a complex maze. One wrong turn and you’d be lost without a guiding hand. Kira knew this fact well, for she had gotten lost once as a child. 

It had been another Name Day celebration years ago, for the Queen Mother, Padme Adimala. A cherished Queen she is known to be, though Adimala had been known to rule with an iron fist alongside her husband, King Anakin Skywalker. For this honorable date, she invited all the children of the kingdom to spend the day in the Royal Gardens while their parents enjoyed a feast in the main hall. Circus shows, games and much more had been planned for the children’s benefit, for their amusement rather than the Queen Mother. 

Kira had gotten lost, getting distracted by the gold and marble pillars that held the roof along with the lavish artwork that painted the ceilings and partitions. She had gotten shoved by others due to her small size at the time. In that ordeal, somehow, Kira ended up in an unmarked pathway, one not commonly used by guests or staff members. 

It was the King, Han Solo, who discovered the weeping child and brought her back to the festivities. Well, before they made a quick stop to the kitchens and Han let her eat as many raspberry cookies that her stomach could handle. 

_“Don’t tell your parents, kid.” He told her, handing another cookie towards the child before nibbling on his own._

A thread of guilt lingered as she made her way out of the castle through an old servants door, clutching the satchel that held her gamble securely. The Royal Family of Alderaan has been nothing but kind to the orphaned girl, to their whole kingdom. The injustice they have suffered twenty years ago still caused a deep wound to ripple throughout the kingdom, one that no individual could heal from.

Even with the weeks leading up to her scheme, Kira wondered if perhaps this would be taking it too far. Unlike her previous plots, that were small and meaningless, resulting in pity crime, Kira questioned if she could truly dare to take a chance on stealing the kingdoms’ most prized possession for her sense of greed.

But why should she care, or even worry, about a missing prince? His disappearance meant nothing to her. Kira had only been a small baby when it occurred, so there was no form of attachment. However, his crown, with all its forged gold and gemstones, could pay for a voyage far away from her current misery in this kingdom.

Then again, Kira Rider has always been a daring girl. 

A crown. All this work for a _crown._ All this _trouble_ for the crown of Alderaan’s missing prince, the deep stabbing ache that the Royal Family and their subjects have never been able to recover from. 

Alarms went ablaze just as she crossed the stone bridge that leads into the kingdoms’ borders. Bells chimed to alert the subjects of Alderaan. Under the shadow of her teal hood, Kira allowed herself the faint smirk of a job well done. 

And it was only eight in the morning!

“Rider!” she heard in the distance along with the gallivanting sound of hooves hitting the pavement. Kira knew who that voice belonged to. Still, she views over her shoulder to bear witness at the small assembled group of the Royal Guard. At the center of the trio was Rose Tico, the youngest Captain of the Guard, heading first on top of the kingdoms’ most cherished horse, Falcon — an albino stallion with the power unseen in other horses. 

Kira plummeted deep into the shady dense forest, deciding not to give up on her head start and greet the guards. 

The crumbling of leaves echoed under her boots as animals scurried away from the unmarked route. She made it a point to stay off the cleared path that had been laid out for wandering travelers. Instead, she preferred the cover of trees to conceal her presence, giving her an edge over the guards. In the background, Rose could be heard shouting orders to Finn and Poe, her second and third-in-command. 

It seemed crazy that once, long ago, they had all been friends as children. But that was a story for another day. 

Even if Kira has been known to outrun the guards, former friends and strangers alike, within the kingdom walls of Alderaan, she was no match for the trained horses of the palace. 

Her heart pounded hard against her chest as she dug herself further into the immeasurable forest. Kira had run into a jolted halt when reaching a soaring rock barrier. Cursing herself, her head snapped around for another means of escape. But with the stomping hooves against the covered earth, Kira knew she had no means except to go up. 

Scaling the boulder had been far easier than she anticipated. The natural pebble scraped her fingertips, with small droplets of blood staining the wall. But above all, no harm or permanent damage occurred when Kira reached the top. 

However, it was at that moment that the guards discovered her location.

“Kira!” called out Finn, craning his head up to see the outlaw. 

“Come down this instant, in the name of Alderaan!” Poe cried, grabbing his bow and arrow. 

“Sorry fellas,” Kira pushed her bottom lip out, faking a sympathetic tone of voice for them. “But my hands are full.” She held out the black satchel bag that obtained the crown of Alderaan, giving it a little wave so they could see before ducking out. Poe had released one of his arrows, which completely missed his target as Kira shifted out of the way.

Kira stared down at them and laughed, shaking her head at his clear intention. It almost felt like old times, back when they were children.

Poe prepared for another shot of his arrow, pointing high in her direction but she hurried away, gripping the satchel to stink back into the submerge of tree branches covered in thick leaves. 

Despite no longer hearing their screams or trotter, she persevered forward to maintain distance between her, them, and the kingdom.

Her cheeks were flushed with the color of cherries as her chest rose for quick intakes of breath. Sweat covered the back of her white short-sleeve tunic, her hood flapping on the material as she continued to run. Her beige-colored trousers became tainted with the green markings of the forest as her coffee-pigmented boots stained with mud. 

The passway had to lead her towards a smooth cut-bank with a roaring river some fifty feet below. Kira figured that she had escaped their capture, being able to grant herself a moment to catch her bearings. Her eyes viewed over the horizon, taking notice of the cliff on the other side along with a clear path. If taken at a proper running pace, it would seem easy enough to jump towards it.

Her fingers rose to comb over her hair, tucking strands of loose locks back into her one unsophisticated bun on the top of her head. 

A snapped twig caught her attention and she spun on her heels, finding Rose dismounting off of Falcon, who remained on high alert. The gilded shade of her armor beamed in the sunshine, casting a reflection that bothered Kira’s eyes. Her hand rose to shield her eyes from the light, avoiding the House _Solo-Organa_ seal that had been pressed on to the middle. 

“I’ve waited a long time for this, Rider.” She unsheathed her sword, taking slow paces towards Alderaan’s number one outlaw. 

“Now really, Rosie, would you truly harm an old friend?” 

The pointed sword in her direction seemed to be an answer, which caused Kira to lift her hand over her heart and pretended to be gutted over the false heartbreak. “After all we’ve been through, Rosie? You would be _so_ cold?”

“You shouldn’t have stolen the crown, Kira. I’ve let you go too many times, out of kindness for our past friendship, but now, I will uphold my duty.” 

Rose had always been seen as the goody-two-shoes in their group, often talking Kira out of her larger schemes as children. She had always been a loyal friend, however. Even as they parted ways, Rose never harmed Kira and kept a warm aura towards her, despite her criminal behavior.

“Well, in that case…” Kira smirked, giving her a two-finger salute. 

She turned back around, running on the smooth stone to pick up her pace until she reached the edge of the ledge and leaped forward. In addition to her recent crown heist, this was another foolish idea on her part. Kira could hear the concerned yells from Rose and the dropping of a metal sword on stone. Her mind, however, drowned out the noise as she stretched her arms forward, grabbing hold of the cliff’s border and hoisted herself up on the other side.

After itching herself away from the edge, Kira flashed her eyes back to the other side and stared at Rose, who stood on the other side with her jaw-dropped at what happened. A small frown welcomed itself on the captain’s features, shrugging her shoulders in defeat. 

Kira didn’t allow herself to dwell on the emotions she felt for seeing a former friend upset. She needed to remember that she was, technically, a wanted criminal, notwithstanding the long history between her, Rose, and the rest of the Royal Guard. 

Nevertheless, Kira Rider swallowed down the self-pity that bubbled in her stomach and resumed her journey under the shade-covering of the forest. 

♕ 

Once standing proud and tall over her devilish achievement, Kira found that pride being replaced with the underlying feeling of regret. It hadn’t been fond memories of her visits to the palace or interactions with the Royal Family that caused the onset of the emotion to the surface. Neither did the weight of a missing prince slow her travels, keeping the only reminder of the young royal protected within the leather satchel.

It was a fucking horse.

A specific horse who has been pursuing her whereabouts for the past month, since the daring escape she concocted off the cliff. A certain horse who seemed to not rest until the thief who took the crown from the castle vaults for a souvenir has been met with the swift hit of justice. A determined horse by the name of Falcon who had been trained extremely properly, far better than any horse who had been born into the kingdoms’ guard. A particular horse that oddly knew a thing or two about tracking, abling himself to get around without the need of a rider. If that small fact had been made public, Kira wouldn’t have taken the chance at stealing the overly-fashioned crown in the first place.

_A fucking horse._

Their game of cat-mouse seemed to be out of a children's novel. A horse and human beating each other in a talent of wits throughout the forests of… well, she didn’t know where they found themselves in. It truly was a sight for any on-looker to witness on their travels. 

Her legs burned with every step she took on the topsoil, but Kira didn’t lighten her speed for the sake of comfort. She could hear her heart drumming at the base of her ears, overworking to supply the necessary blood-flow around her body. Kira felt the flush on her cheeks, warming the skin with her pores overproducing the sweat that dressed her forehead, arms, and the small of her back.

She’s exhausted and doubly so, annoyed. If Kira was _ever_ going to ditch the crown and trade for her weight in gold credits, she needed to get rid of the horse. And fast. 

At the riverbank, she successfully managed to ditch the stubborn stallion with the use of a nearby beaver and its made-dam. With a stretch of ground between them, Kira used pieces of torn fabric from her clothing to create a pathway in the opposite direction of her destined destination.

Even if Falcon learned of her trickery, Kira would be persistent in keeping distance from the horse. 

With her back against a large stone boulder, Kira concealed herself and held on to the satchel close to her chest. She held her breath as Falcon trotted by, refusing to move even a millimeter from her position. Her ears picked up his pause, listening to the soft grunt before continuing on the path that Kira laid out for him.

His hooves faded after several beats and the signal of broken twigs and leaves. 

Releasing the lump in her throat with a sigh, Kira begins to rise from her position and places her hand on a barrier of vines covering a rock. Except, only her arm fell through the vines and she fell flat on the dirt ground. “Shit,” she mutters, looking up to inspect the small and narrow tunnel. 

Sunlight beams glimmer in shards of broken reflections on the rock slab, showing the means of an exit. 

Using the weight of her forearms, Kira picks herself up and brushes away the patches of dirt and pebbles from her clothing. Her eyes linger in the direction of the illumination. There’s uncertainty on her face but when she hears a far-off neigh, the decision to move forward was easy. Even if there isn’t an exit out of the cave, at least she’d be able to hide away from Falcon for a couple hours. She’s earned a few hours of undisturbed rest.

She takes slow steps towards the brightness, noticing the dull-colored stones that littered all-around the soil flooring. The dirt suggests that there have been recent travelers from the way that there were certain foot-marks. But perhaps, it could have also been there for ages, unruffled by the elements. 

Kira reaches the open gap, determining that it was sunlight pouring into the restricted underpass. Her eyes blinked, adjusting to the sudden change of lift.

Then there it was.

A cobble-stone tower with fading white paint that stood high, overlooking a waterfall that fed into the small river at the bottom. Climbing plants of moss riddled at the base looming spire, swirling into thin vines the further it went up. There were windows on opposing sides, closed from viewing the outside world. If somebody has made this tower their home, there wouldn’t be a way of knowing just yet.

 _Perhaps my luck is finally beginning to turn,_ Kira thinks, feeling a small relief sink into her shoulders as she crossed the grassy plains.

Locating the entrance didn’t take her long, being able to pick the rusting lock from its hinges with ease and begin her journey up the flight of stairs. 

She couldn’t tell how long it had been since somebody had called the tower home, or if they had _left,_ judging from the state of the spiral-staircase. Combs of cobwebs were knitted at the corners, collecting the small inserts who have found their way there unwillingly. Skeletons of small mice scattered on different steps as lizards scurried around them. As she reached the top did the area begin to seem cleaner with only dust flying around.

Coming to the final stretch, Kira had been greeted with another locked door. It was newer than the rusting lock at the foot of the tower. It took a few tries with her pin and a push of her shoulder to pried open the hatch, causing the wood to creek open. 

Keeping a small crack of the floorboard to view, her eyes looked to find a small display of a living area that’s been recently used. Lifting the entryway, she itches out of the stairwell carefully. She wasn’t sure if the owner remained inside, or has gone off for a quick trip for food and water. Kira takes in the arrangement of furniture, art-pieces on the walls and weapons disbanded on the wood flooring. She spies from the corner of her eye a bow-and arrows set, noting to borrow it later for her defense. 

It seemed like an odd little home to have in the middle of nowhere, but Kira held no complaints if they decided to live as a hermit. Considering it would be her perfect hideaway spot for the night, the owner would understand, right? 

Closing the hatch with a gentle thump, Kira removed her satchel off her body, opening the flap to look at the crown with all of its jewels. “Alone at last,” she mumbles, a smirk forming on her features while her finger grace over the citrine drops.

Then everything went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can't wait for you guys to see what's going to be coming up in the next couple of chapters. If you'd like to keep informed/updated on posting, follow my Twitter! That's usually where I am.


	3. fate... destiny… a horse.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You did this?”  
> The green critter cocked its head to the side, trying to make sense of her words. Kira sighed, making a click sound with her tongue.  
> “No, of course not.” her finger tapped on the wooden material. “Unless you’re one of those ancient supernatural creatures that the realm fears?”  
> It didn’t humor her with an answer; what was she expecting — for it to suddenly speak and give her an explanation? That was ridiculous. It did, however, shrug a moment later. Her brows pinched in the middle, almost promoting her to believe that, perhaps, it did understand her language.  
> “Right…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi hello to you all!  
> i finally have this chapter done, after many changes and rewrites. i'm pretty happy with it, though i did cut the original bottom half because i was too lazy and it also seemed to run-off, making it unimportant to the story.  
> i did my best to edit and relook at everything so if there's a mistake, please let me know via dm on twitter so i can finish it.  
> anyways, y'all know the drill; comments and kudos make me happy!!

#  **fate... destiny… a horse.**

* * *

A perpetual and sluggish moan arises in the darkened living space as Kira begins to stir awake. The stiffness on the side of her neck brings an agonizing discomfort to the base, giving her another reason to whine at the pricking ache.

Her head blobs to ease the soreness; recalling the former ballerina stretches that the caregivers from the orphanage would teach little girls as a way to remove the cramped pain they’d receive from the too old, and too lumpy, mattresses. It brings her some minor relief, but only a small degree.

There’s a throbbing batter of sensation that grows along her temple walls. She’s certain a large bump has grown on the back of her head, pulsing to torment the thief and have a form of self-healing done as she slept.

She lifts her head, shaking lightly to give some liberation to the hammering agitation. Her bun had come undone at some point, leaving her hair to fan her face.

Eyes flicker open but Kira was quick to shut them, observing the white sects of blinding stars that danced in her sockets. 

Memories sparsely begin to launch into her conscious mind as her breathing slows. Upon entering the tower, Kira recollected the image of open windows with natural illumination pouring into the space. 

Curtains were held back with a thick strap of crimson thread, clashing with the overall decoration of the space. Artwork embellished the chipped painted walls with an array of various colors and designs. The arrangement of furniture seemed odd and in poor taste as if the homeowner had no idea what to do or where to place anything. Weapons littered on the mahogany flooring, scraping rough marks that were both new and old. 

However, as she slowly reopened her eyes to adjust alongside the brightness, Kira took in the visible differences. 

Shadows submerged the room, ceasing to highlight the individual areas of the home. Kira scanned the room with narrowed eyes, picking out the silhouette outlines of the previous items seen before. The curtains were no longer held by the chunky cord, giving a false pretense of nightfall but there’s a single radiation of sunlight that pours above, solely centered on her. 

Still, the gleaming light was fading with shadows of royal cobalt and desert sand, blending to bring the deep and rich mauve color that signals the early stages of darkness. 

But Kira had entered the tower in the mid-morning hour, recalling the highpoint of the sun that had been pleasurable for her journey in the forest and didn’t leave her sweating profusely. 

Had she fallen asleep once she stepped inside? That would explain the bump on her head, but not the evident changes to her surroundings. 

The regular rhythm of the pain sent a sharp twinge to her left temple, leaving another statis groan to be delivered into the room. Not one to take this pain lightly, Kira raises her hand to touch the skin but quickly finds that she couldn’t.

Shooting her version down, Kira realizes that she had been sitting on a firm table chair, worn down with time, and nicked of its sage green paint. That would explain the inflexible tension in her neck. But what gives her horror is the deep ruby rope that was fashioned in elegant, and tight, knots on her wrists, across her chest and thighs, anchoring her body to the seat.

No, Kira hadn’t fallen asleep from her fatigue. Somebody had struck her down, with purpose and force. 

Before she could fall into a pit of panic, Kira peeks up to find a small creature staring at her with profound interest. She had played with frogs out by the lake and had once taken a chameleon as a pet, much to the disagreement of her caretakers. 

But this… was the strangest thing that she had ever seen.

It was swaddled in a tiny bundle of rags, with only its small claws and head out on display. Its ears were long, expanding out and twisted every so often as if picking up unheard noises in the distance. The eyes… they were immense, pooling at its sockets in a deep brown embrace, studying what's before it. 

Leading back into her restraints, silence swelled the room as they regarded one another, believing the other to be the unusual animal. 

During her time in the orphanage, the caretakers would say tales of magical jungles and the creatures that called it home before bed, to a room of overly hyper girls. There would be ferocious beasts that haunted at night and the heroes who battled evil in the open, grassy plains. They’d claim that each story was based on fact, never fiction. As an aloof child, Kira never believed in their old fairy tales meant to entertain the younger girls. 

She might be eating those words now. 

“You did this?”

The green critter cocked its head to the side, trying to make sense of her words. Kira sighed, making a  _ click  _ sound with her tongue. 

“No, of course not.” her finger tapped on the wooden material. “Unless you’re one of those ancient supernatural creatures that the realm fears?” 

It didn’t humor her with an answer; what was she expecting — for it to suddenly speak and give her an explanation? That was ridiculous. It did, however, shrug a moment later. Her brows pinched in the middle, almost promoting her to believe that, perhaps, it did understand her language.

“Right…” 

Averting her eyes away from the lingering creature, Kira returned to the sturdy crimson rope that’s the current source of her problem. 

Her legs hadn’t received the rope treatment, leaving her free to move them as she pleased. There’s a small pocket knife hidden in the sole of her boot, left there as a ‘just in case’ precaution. The possibilities of gaining the weapon were high, merely uncomfortable with the position of her arms, cutting her off from the regular movement.

She twists her wrist, wondering if it could come loose, but the burn strings her skin. Kira hisses and wishes that her fingers could caress the scorch, smooth away the pain. 

“Struggling is pointless.” a deep and rich velvety voice broke from the shadows, coming from the right side. “So is escaping.”

_ His  _ words left a trail of goosebumps down her arms, an unusual effect that she’s only experienced in the winter months of Alderaan. Kira didn’t speak; opting to locate her captor and search for an escape route. She wouldn’t show her fear to give them an edge so the thief displayed a mask of indifference for her own safety.

If being tied up like a hog could as that.

But with the sun on the cusp of disappearing, Kira couldn’t spot anybody else in the tower. 

Her surveillance flutters when a grip on her leg makes her jump. There’s a small choo that comes alive, then suddenly the bizarre animal is sitting… directly on her lap. She can’t hide the scowl on her feature, particularly tense that this thing was warming up to her? 

“Perhaps you should show your pet some manners and have it  _ not  _ sit on strangers laps.” 

Once again, Kira got the sneaky suspicion that it understood her when there’s a visible frown and it crosses its tiny arms. 

“Uh… Apologizes?” 

It didn’t seem to take her pardon but that didn’t concern her. Not when the sound of feet shuffled from the shadows, slowly moving towards her and the creature with precise steps; as if not to frighten a terrified stray.

Truthfully, Kira  _ was  _ a terrified stray. 

Eyes cast to a towering form that stepped on the edge of the dimming circle of light, outlining the physique structure of a muscular man. She could not school her expression when looking at this stranger; Kira is genuinely dumbstruck.

_ Is this the most beautiful man to have been born into this world?  _

He didn’t appear to be angered by her presence, as Kira looked into his eyes. This man seemed to be curious by the turn of events; this was abnormal, after all. But she didn’t focus on the possible danger that may occur. No, Kira is far too distracted with… him.

His ebony hair formed luscious waves that gilded on his pale and broad shoulders. His nose was deemed too large for his face and yet suited him all the same. A clump of birthmarks strewed across his sharp features, gravitating down towards — 

_ Oh stars, he’s shirtless. _

Droplets of sweat dazzled on his chiseled chest, despite the lack of natural light. Specks of his curls stuck to his temple still, as if he had spent the last hour performing manual labor, or practicing his weaponry use, while she slept on that chair. 

Blood rushed to her cheeks and built the rose-tinted flush that coats her skin, down to her neck. Her lips were parted with a tiny inhale swirling in her lungs and Kira squirmed in her seat. Eyes deterred away from his body and faked a cough, clearing her throat — as if that will save her from embarrassment. 

“Do you have a cowl, tunic, or something you can put on?” Her words were rushed and aggressive, but her inquiry was met with silence. 

Muted communications unbend between the two strangers, leaving Kira to suffer from the intolerable quiet of the tower and the occasional choo of the creature. It could have been five minutes or an hour since she spoke, but Kira hadn’t returned to meet his gaze when dense steps began to circle around the ring of wane light. 

Her version is kept solely absorbed on the ground, counting the scuff blemishes of shoes, dust, and weapons. Options and means of escape supplied a subtle distraction; how could she remove herself from this with minimal fighting? The rope provided an obstacle and he had warned her previously to remain. But sitting still in her place didn’t endure well, although the view of him had been captivating. 

_ Focus, Kira. Escape now, drool later.  _

However, curiosity had always been a friend, nudging her on to dangerous, and thrilling, wonders that lead her to trouble. So when it poked at her during his third lap around, Kira complied with its request. 

Another cleansing of the throat and she straightens with her upper back touching the wooden rail. Kira steered clear of peeping at his polished chest, guiding herself to concentrate on his profile, but her brow tilted upward when she caught sight of the frying pan that he gripped.

“First time I’ve been attacked with a pan.”

“You prefer a sword?”

She suppressed the whine that threatened to leave her, thinking back to the weapons corner of his home. If he means to kill her here, he certainly had the tools to do so. 

“Who are you and how did you find me?” His movements stopped directly in front of her and Kira did not miss the tight grasp he kept on the kitchen item. 

It dawned on her that this could be served as an opportunity of escaping if she played her cards right. If there is one thing she learned while living in the outskirts of the kingdom, watching the harlots during their nighty chase, is that men don’t refuse an offer of pleasure. She may have never laid with a man before, but the act of persuasion is second-nature to her. 

Her lips bow to a frown, pushing the bottom rim to a small pout. “I apologize, sir.” She tilts her head slightly up and to the side, swaying her loose hair to fall to the side. Lashes bat seductively after a beat, viewing the change of his stern expression that softens slightly. “I’m Kira Rider.”

For a moment, she feels victorious that this one small deed may have been enough for this stranger. Then the pan is suddenly under her chin, forcing her to look up at the man and his narrowed eyes that spelled  _ danger  _ in his irises. 

“Who else knows my location, Kira Rider?” 

Fingertips seized the edge of the armrests then released when she groaned, furiously breathing out her annoyance that her idea didn’t work. It _always_ did back in Alderaan. “Alright you hermit of a sasquatch — “

“Ben.” 

She scoffs with the roll of her eyes, “Gesundheit. Here’s —” There’s a tug on her tunic and they both view the unnamed animal that still sat on her lap.

“Uh… This is Yoda.” Ben coughed, noting that the harshness of the conversation was lack with his interruption. 

Kira nods, offering no comment about Toda, continuing with her previous statement. “Here’s the thing, I was in a tight situation, gallivanting through the forest and going about my day.” She breathes. “I came across your tower so I—” Her eyes are blown widened, immediately remembering the reason why she stepped into the tower in the first place. 

“Where’s my satchel?!” Her head whips to the side, hunting for the black leather bag on the ground and in the surrounding area. Curse this growing darkness! 

Ben reached over to grab his little friend, setting him down on his shoulder before addressing the panicked girl. “I’ve hidden it.” his arms crossed over his chest, a smug grin on his face that showcased the indentation of a dimple. “Somewhere you’ll never find it.” 

Her head snaps back to her captor from the ill-fated search, tugging at the stiffen ropes on her body. Hopes of leaving her pathetic life behind and form a stress-free life dwindled with his words. All that work, for a stupid crown that wouldn’t see the exchange of credits for its worth.

“Unless…” 

Internal terror paused with Ben’s single word. His arms released and were guided behind his back, twirling the pain careless in his hand as a child would. 

“Unless…?” 

Strolling back, he disappeared under the cover of black shadows. For a few beats, the only sound that echoed was his steps that paused, and the scratching halt of a match being lit. “I’m prepared to offer you a deal,” Ben reveals, returning to rotate her chair in a certain direction after giving fire to candles until the room is fully ignited. 

Her eyes didn’t leave his immense figure once there was light, watching his movements with curiosity, fear, and wonder. Ben didn’t utter another word until he walked away again, pulling back a silk plum curtain off a painted wall that exhibited artwork.

“Do you know what these are?” He points with the pan in his hand. 

Streaks of blue faltered with pummel bands of grey and white to resemble a descending night sky, giving the illusion of stars. Curves of green were shaded to alternate shapes of hills, trees, and unmatched bushes. A lone character sat on the corner of a slope, black floating hair in the breeze while their head angled up to the heavens. Peculiar orbs were mismatched in different tints of orange, yellow, and the occasional pink. 

Small details within the artwork were found with her keen eye; the toned down sun symbol that seemed plastered in unknown regions of the painting. It vaguely resembles that of House Solo-Organa, but Kira didn’t press on the thought, believing that he had planned it beforehand. 

“You mean the lantern thing they do for the prince?” 

There’s a ping of jealousy in her voice, but Ben paid no attention to the sudden change; his appearance grew with excitement and mumbled something inaudible to Yoda. 

“Well, next month, they will light the night sky with these lanterns. You—” The pan points in her direction but Kira no longer views it as a menace. “—will act as my guide to see these lanterns and return me home.” Ben takes a gentle step forward towards her with the same smug grin. “Then, and only then, will I return your satchel to you. That is my deal.”

A shake of the head and one shoulder shrugged later, she speaks. “Yeah, no can no.” She found sudden amusement with her fingernails. “Unfortunately, the kingdom and I are not exactly…. The best of acquaintances at the moment. So, much to your dismay, I won’t be taking you anywhere.”

Kira didn’t catch wind of the two unlikely friends sharing a silent conversation; which Yoda urged him on with a nod to carry on with his proposal. It wasn’t until her chair was jerked somewhat that her attention swayed back to the shirtless man, noticing his grip on the loosened end of the long thread. 

“Something brought you here, Kira Rider.” He moves forward along with the rope. “Call it what you will… Fate, destiny—”

“A horse,” she mumbles, cursing at the palace horse that dragged her into this mess in the first place. 

Ben didn’t listen to her. “So I have made the decision to trust you.”

“A rather horrible decision, truly.”

“But trust me, when I tell you this.” He tugs on the rope that pulls the chair forward, leading it on its two front legs. The rope across her chest prevents her from falling so Kira is forced to meet his eye. “You can tear this tower apart, brick by brick,” There’s the unlining pretense of stubbornness and determination that should  _ not  _ be turning her on at this exact moment. “But without my help, you will never find your precious satchel. — I make that promise.” 

A sigh exhaled from her lung, searching for a trade of dishonest in his eyes. 

“And when I promise something. I never break that promise.  _ Ever.  _ “

If Kira was to agree on this journey with him, there was only the swift guarantee that her head would be mounted on a spoke upon her arrival. Any crime against the crown, such as stealing the royal crown, promised an execution by the guillotine and its masked operator. Instead, she thought, she could pursue Ben with another tactic that didn’t involve stepping on to the Alderaan soil. 

She swifts in her chair, looking up at him through her lashes at another attempt of temptation. 

“And there is nothing else I can do to get my satchel back, sir?” Her voice dropped to a sultry tone, bringing her foot up to rub against his thick calf. She observed the manner in which Ben was becoming fazed by her actions and regarded at the bob of his Adam’s apple. 

Her foot traveled higher, as far as it could so, as they kept their stare and offered nothing in terms of words. The scrutiny under his watch was starting to become unbearable so Kira sighs, dropping her foot and murmurs, “This is an off-month for me.”

“Let me get this straight. I take you to see the lanterns. Bring you home and you’ll give me back my satchel?”

Ben pushes the chair back and offers a nod as his response.

“Fine, I’ll take you to see the stupid lanterns.” Kira agrees in defeat, knowing that this travel has surely ensured her an early death.

“Then we’ll leave first thing in the morning.” 

There’s enthusiasm brewing at the pit of his stomach with the way that he’s trying to hold off from showing Kira, but she notices the way that his eyes crinkle and his teeth take in his bottom lip to stop himself. Why he’s so animated about seeing these lanterns, she didn’t understand and didn’t bother to ask. 

Clearing her throat, she cut his delightfulness short. “Am I supposed to be tied to a chair all night or do you plan on releasing these bonds?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh yes... i added baby yoda into this story because F U C K it. i wanted to and that's on period.  
> don't worry, there will be a chapter of ben's pov soon!


	4. and then there’s goldie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So when a stranger — the most _beautiful_ , and only girl he has ever seen — came waltzing through his trapdoor, Ben made a quick decision. A decision that led to grabbing his warmed skillet, a forgotten lunch that grew cold on the wooden floor and questionable behavior from his captive that preceded this month-long excursion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 4k of tangled reylo bliss? 4k of tangled reylo giggles.
> 
> **this chapter is unbeta'd because i was far too impatient to wait and i wanted to get this uploaded asap.**
> 
> heads up, the next two chapters will be in ben's pov's (yay!) but then we're time-traveling back to kira's for certain reasons. it'll make sense, i promise. 
> 
> please see the new endnotes for possible triggers/spoilers.

Shadows of early dawn entrenched covert plains of the hidden domain, bathing the aging bricks of the tower in a blanket of ordinariness. The sky dusted with gratifying hues of yellow and orange that melts into a lukewarm blue with clouds roaming freely. Shades of this resplendency would put his painting set to shame — he’d never touch the seashell dyes again if he could dip his tool into the colors of the heavens. 

But for all the impressive beauty that depicted above, beneath the silent distress in his bones, Ben had found the true meaning of radiance in the form of freckles and a mischievous glint ringed around a strangers’ sparkling forest green eyes. 

“You coming, sasquatch?” Kira pings in annoyance, turning on her heels once he paused the ascend, for the third time, on the patched hill that leads towards the cave-opening of his freedom. Kira waits with her hands firmly situated at the hips, shifting the weight to the right.

Averting his eyes from the devotional vision she portrayed as soft raising sunbeams bathed Kira in a golden-halo of the morning sun, he allowed one final look at the structure he’s called home for twenty years. Gripping the strap of his travel bag, there’s a trail of guilt that flares in his heart as he looks on to the closed windows and visible stone from the fading paint of his tower.

The tower has given him solitude as the decaying walls and scuffed-marked flooring slowly crumbled around a young boy. Under the watchful eye of his father and the Praetorian Guard, Ben lavished in the rules of war and combat. With the cover of night, his mind wandered off to distant lands like those described in his limited literature books. When his father went off to visit his estate in Naboo, Ben fueled his imagination with painting on the chipped walls. 

Expedition towards the Kingdom of Alderaan is a risky means. Warnings and punishments by the hands of his father have been enough to enlist the consequences burned into his mind, adhering Ben to the walls within their terrain and keeping his only form of companionship to a miniature green creature, Yoda, that, well, he hasn’t figured out his origins from. 

Except Ben has been glaring out a window for too long, consuming the image of his father leaving the safety of their home and into the lands where danger lurked in every corner. He has grown tired and miserable with his common routine. Ben needed this taste of freedom like he needed the air in his lungs to live, for at least once in his life. 

So when a stranger — the most  _ beautiful,  _ and only girl he has ever seen — came waltzing through his trapdoor, Ben made a quick decision. A decision that led to grabbing his warmed skillet, a forgotten lunch that grew cold on the wooden floor and questionable behavior from his captive that preceded this month-long excursion.

Gently patting his clawed hand on Ben’s cheek, Yoda wiggled his ears in the encouragement that pulled a chuckle from his human friend. He sat comfortably on his shoulder, a thin black string tied around the midsection that connected to the strap of Ben’s traveling bag to keep him from falling off. 

With a gentle exhale, Ben looks over his shoulder to the vision of irritation and gorgeousness that waited for his command.

Her arms fold at the base of her chest, propelling the small swell of her breasts slightly upward that Ben  _ did not,  _ what so  _ ever,  _ notice, as Kira looks away from his general direction, eyeing the various rock formations of the realm and miraculous lone waterfall. The scowl seems to be a permanent characteristic of hers but that didn’t deter from the loosen strands of chestnut locks that sway with the gentle breeze, leaving him awestruck and tongue-tied.

The written word of vast and ancient religions have depicted imagery, and descriptions, of angelic-beings that swept the souls of the loneliest men and fly them up to the gardens of Elysium where they’d live for all eternity. Everything that a man could desire would be at their fingertips. The angels come to Earth, under the pretense of mortal women with unworldly beauty, feeding off what the man’s darkest desire may be — shall it be lust, a belly of rum, the greed of gold, or the unmistakable feeling of love. 

Ben wonders, for any reason other than his lucrative imagination, that Kira might be his uncovered guardian angel and sent here to whisk him away to the gates of heavens. 

A mumbled whine evades his lips. Ben turns on his heels, stalking up the remaining piece of land without another glance at the ebbing prison of his youth. He stops shortly a few inches away, shoulders brushing up the material of her teal shirt, from Kira as she slowly acknowledges his presence, craning her neck up to meet his eyes. 

They still for an instant, gazing at each other with the particular interest of understanding but also aloofness.

His whiskey-rimmed hues glare at the visible tumid bump on her skull, hardly concealed under the jumbled array of the bizarre, but strangely adorable, straight line of three buns she wore, that grew from the blunt force of the frying pan he’d used the previous day. Ben stared passed the opening of her shirt, ignoring at the valley of her breasts to the healing rope burn on her wrists. 

He opens his mouth to say something, unsure if he could convey an apology for his mishandlings but pressed his lips in a thin line.

A ping of guilt stirs at his core from witnessing the injures Ben inflicted and coerced his newest acquaintance into staying seated on the harsh and discomforting table chair for the night. 

Dinner and restroom breaks were awkward affairs.

But Kira is a stranger. A stranger fulfilling her end of the bargain after being forced into it. Despite the protesting and failed attempts of persuasion, at least that’s what he  _ thought  _ they were, she reluctantly agreed to the journey with the slim hope of receiving her satchel back. 

Kira needed to trust him as Ben needed to trust her. 

It was not his business to know or grow curious about the contents inside or of their importance, but the beaten leather burst opened under the beaming sunlight of the opened window after he knocked her out cold. The gemstones caused a glimmer of dazzling kaleidoscopes on his walls, none of which he could ever paint to accuracy.

Upon securing Kira with the crimson threads from his curtains, he took in the appearance of the crystallized crown. He had only seen the images of treasured objects such as this in his books or on the rare occasion that his father wore the Nabboian jewels when visiting, but everything Ben has seen paled in comparison to the golden halo in his hands. Bent in a meticulous pattern to resemble the sun, tear dots of tangerine, ruby, tourmaline, and aragonite quartz elope the singular opal stone at the center. His large thumb glossed over the metalwork with a gingerly touch, idolizing the craftsmen’s proficiency of the piece before bestowing the weighted object on his head, facing the broken mirror that had been shattered in a fit of rage years ago. 

Ease of familiarity hassled at his chest as Ben stares at the battered reflection looking back at him, mocking him at what his imagination showed.

Here stood an overly enthusiastic young man, with the murderous attack precision of a rouge soldier when commanded, gawking at the false portrait of a boy who wished to be a king — to have the freedom to rule his life. He beholds the display of the dithery and sore focuses of his face, peppered dark moles that emphasize the gigantic shape of his nose or the too-largely pouted shape of his lips, hiding the crooked teeth. He’s at the mercy of short doorframes and narrow hallways due to his abnormal height and the broad width of his chest. 

Ben didn’t have the social skill to make up for what his appearance called for — ugliness with the delicacy to torture and gut a single creature with a rusty blade. That’s what his father concluded and that’s what he’ll always be. 

But standing next to this girl, who intended to use his home as a hide-out, and is more than likely to be a wanted thief rather than a run-away princess like he originally thought, Ben felt even more out of place yet irregularly drawn to her. 

Like the ocean is drawn to the moon, or the way sunflowers are drawn to the sun.

All thoughts dispel when Kira raises a brow, crimson blush painted from her high cheeks down to the slope of her neck, waiting with the tips of her fingers drumming on the clothed skin and offered no words. 

Gripping the strap of his overfilled traveling pack, his chin jerks towards the cave entrance decorated in hanging vines, blossoming of hydrangea petiolaris weaved around jabbed stones. Her foot loops back and turns, moving aside the floating plants, with a few petals falling on her head, and welcomes Ben into the rock formation as he follows pursuit into a new world.

At least to him, that is.

**A week and a half later**

His footsteps are slow and careful as Ben leaves the shelter of the tree shade. The coal-black tint of his blade flashes a muted-shine to create the illusion false light of sun towards his victim’s location and gravesite. Bringing the sword up over his head, he shifts carefully to the hagriding movement of the berry bushes. 

With an impending screech, he strikes the weapon down in attack! He grunts with each glide of the blade, breaking apart the structure of the tiny spect of the forest, microscopic pieces of leaves and twigs blow in his direction and away with the breeze of the wind. Only then does Ben have clear viewing of his prey and —

Dark beady eyes stare up at his towering figure, giving a small notion of looking at the elevated sword overhead, munching on a pile of berries that stained its white fur in a hue of purple and blue, splattered in dots pooling on the grassy plain.

“Stay calm,” Somewhere behind him, Kira says sarcastically as the rustling of dirt intents her shift in weight, most likely popping her hip to the side. “It can probably smell fear.”

Hesitating as man and bunny gloat at one another, he extinguishes the blade into the protective sheath, stepping back from the destroyed berry bush. The small creature continues to consume its meal before hopping away into the nearby burrow, littered with its children. Turning with a slight loss of his bravery, Ben lets out a cough and shallows the growing lump in his throat. With a nervous tinge, his thumb ghosts over the exhausted scarlet leather of the hilt before giving it a gentle tap. 

“False alarm.” Kira rolls her eyes as he readjusts his stance, blowing his chest out in counterfeit pride. 

Kira pinches the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes and talking through gritted teeth. “This is the  _ sixth  _ time today you have forced us to stop.” She echoes a deep sigh through her nose. “Then yesterday you lost our lunch, nearly burned our supplies,  _ and  _ gotten yourself stuck inside a honey tree.” Kira straightens out, holding her elbows in the palm of her hands, with disappointment. “And do not get me started on the disaster of the last week.”

Ben extends a faint smile with her words, rummaging through his thoughts to see if he had done something,  _ anything _ , right the previous week.

There was the time he —  _ Oh,  _ right. Ben had slipped and thrown their dinner back into the river, letting it swim away.

But there was that incident he had — Wait, no; he used the fishing string to craft a bracelet for Kira to wear, which is secured around her ankle though she believes Ben didn’t see her put it on after she yelled at him for doing a foolish thing. But he did.

Now the moment he — Hold on, Ben sacrificed his jerky to make room for the berries that Kira likes and ended up having a family of wild boars chasing them throughout the forest until reaching the river’s end and jumped to the overside. 

When he wasn’t trying to stop a group of undomesticated animals from chewing his leg off or stopping Yoda from putting his hand out towards their campfire, Ben put his best foot forward with using the survival skills the Praetorian Guards taught him. He had been trained in the art of war and battle, permanence, and weaponry but all those levels of expertise meant nothing in impressing Kira, who’d roll her eyes, scoff in aggravation, and move on from their location.

The only time she’d utter a word was when he messed up, like now.

“Nothing to fear, K—”

“There is nothing to fear, sasquatch!” She yells, throwing her hands up and gestures towards the extensive timberland they stood in. “The forest is overgrown and running with creatures hunting for food and digging their homes!” She groans, smacking her forehead, and mumbled something in another language that he couldn’t overhear, or understand.

He eyes over at Yoda, sitting on a low tree branch close to Kira, who shrugs his tiny shoulders. “Uh,” Ben chuckles weakly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “There’s danger lurking around every corner?” He didn’t mean for it to sound like a question but she shots her head back towards him, hands clenching into fists. 

“This has to be karma,” she mumbles before stomping away. “Go back to your stupid tower if you’re  _ so  _ afraid of the woods!”

Grumbling away from the clearing, she pushes two leaf-covered limbs before they snapped back into place, some of the blades ripping at their base and floats to the ground. He chases after her, sheath pounding against his calf, grabbing Yoda and sits his friend on to his shoulder before following the broken path of branches. “I’m only trying to protect you!” Ben calls out, nearly bumping into Kira when she suddenly tracks in her tracks. Dirt skidded off the ground from his halt and onto her shoes, which Kira didn’t seem to notice when she swirls around. 

“Protecting me?!” She spats back, a lick of danger in her tone. The fire in her eyes is unmistakable and Ben, unknowingly, begins to hunch his shoulders to make himself small. “You are determined to see those ridiculous and stupid lanterns they put out every year, it is your fault we’re in this neck of the woods!”

“The floating lights is my dream to see.” He undertones, keeping his sight to the earth before realizing his mistake and raises to his full size, squaring his shoulders. Yoda slides down the strap of his bag, securing himself inside when Ben’s hand balled into a fist. “This forest can throw anything at me and I can handle it!” His thumb blots out, poking himself in the chest. “Ruffians, thugs, wild animals, anything! Even your crossed attitude!”

Her lips morphed into a tiny circle, bawling a ballistic cough before widening to say something with a finger pointed to jab his chest but she pauses midway. Kira closed her mouth into a soft line, tilting her head but wouldn’t look away from him. He squirms minimally through her gaze, hardening his eyes as Ben takes her challenge. The way he catches her mind shifting with gears, puzzling over his intentions causes Ben to question the interworkings of her psyche. 

Perhaps his skills are lackluster at best out in the wilderness but Ben meant every word, even if this strange pull towards her seems one-sided. Though, there’s a sneaky suspicion that it might not be.

There’s a venerating fragment of hope blossoming in his chest as her face begins to soften. Maybe he hasn’t fully made himself into a fool or completely messed everything up during this journey. 

A small smile rounds the corners of her lips, springing the intents of dimples he had never seen before, but how Ben  _ wishes  _ he had known about them early on, crowns her features well.

“Are you hungry?” She inquires sweetly, coming beside him in a quick flash before Ben took notice. Her eyelashes bat and he melts, mouth jack, and unable to pronounce words. “I know a great place for lunch!” Kira chippers, looping her arm around his forearm and tugs him into the opposite direction, towards a gloomier section of the forest with hanging vines, a rocky path, and an opposite river. 

“Don’t worry about where it is. You’ll know it when you smell it!” 

With the grin Kira sends his way, the blood rushes up to his neck and colors the tips of his ears pink, rendering him the shade of strawberries. The heated feeling of her skin around his bequeaths goosebumps lifting from his tricep to the thin black hairs on his arm and Bey prays (that’s a lie, he  _ begs _ ) to the unknown gods of this world to let him have this moment, even if this is the only good interaction between them. Ben couldn’t find it within himself to question about their new location or how long it would take to reach; all he thinks about was the bizarre presence of rightness around her. 

“Ah, there is it!” Her voice is almost song-like when they discover a slanted pub, curving into a massive tree with the roof and sides covered in growing moss that hid the original violet paint of the building. 

She lets go of Ben’s arm, who already felt the lack of her warmth but constrains from whining. 

“The Snuggly Duckling.” A dingy wooden detailed pole creaked alongside the wind, showing the design of a bright yellow smirking baby duck and outlining the restaurant’s name in white lettering underneath. “Don’t worry,” her small hand expands on his lower back, a shiver rushing down his spine, and prompts them towards the entrance. There’s almost a skip in her step with excitement. “Very quaint place. Five-star ratings across the board, perfect for a meal and there’s a karaoke bar.” She hums the final words, wiggling her eyebrows in delight.

Ben ponders over the last week, recalling all the times she shot him down for singing around their campfire and quirks a brow at the reference. He puts his suspicions aside, mumbling, “Well, I do like ducklings… And singing.” Yoda wiggles his ears in happiness, overhearing his friend but Kira interjects. 

“Yay!” Her hands come together for a clap before she pushes him forward, forcing the door open with a blaring  _ thump  _ that reverberates off the aging wood. “Garcon! Your finest table, please!”

A roomful of eyes dart in their general direction, committing silence in the establishment, draining Ben of his pale color and he uncovers his weapon in a hasten matter. He hauls Kira behind his large body, compelling his trembling hand to still and properly clasp around the leathered hilt. 

Old dully wanted posters labeling inmate numbers adorned the walls under the stuffed molding of hunted animals, some still stained in their blood that covered in drips on the panels. Ammunitions laid on the dinner table beside the guests’ choice of meal and drink, both that seemed inedible and rotten even from a distance. Knives of dragger had been flung and stuck to the timber molding and shredded canvas that depicted a line-up of armed guards, each clutching a golden helmet under their arm, with a short woman that had almond-shaped eyes and flaring black hair tied in a small ponytail. On the front of their uniform, an ash-blond emblem of the sun signals their status as royal guards across their chest with a palace backdrop. There’s a tanned-skin man on the top of the stairs, gripping an arrow that aimed for the woman on the painting, shooting directly in between her eyes once he caught wind of Ben and Kira.

Draping on the laps of miscellaneous patrons, women sat with their chest bare out in the dim lighting, now glowing with their pink-shaded nipples pebbling under the beam of daylight pouring in from the opened door. Their once-brightly painted crimson-stained lips transferred the coloring on to the skin of scarred men, wearing torn black and umber clothing. Several were bald, glossing a shine from the candlelight, others tied their hair with ribbons in a chromatic style of elegant, but tossed, braids while the rest forwent a greasy branding of their musk that cluttered the small dining area. 

A few of the ladies, who looked young enough to be sixteen or below, handled the bar with barrels of rum under their protection and iron cups with wooden handles at the mouth. The older of the girls had peaked themselves on the railing upstairs, dressed in a mixed pallet of muted stripes, situating the clothing with a clear rope at the waistline and a slit with a smooth leg pulled out front. Most of their hair was pinned back to show the poised facade of the newcomers and old veterans with hand-drawn heart markings inked in black while the rest let their curls loose on their shoulders, showing signs of being bedridden though their eyes didn’t droop in drowsiness.

Startled, Ben swings his sword to the left towards the sound of a giggling blonde woman, decked in a simple plum-colored kirtle loosely fastened at the top to show off the swell of her large breasts. He worried that any sudden movement would cause them to slip out of their coverings but she didn’t seem to care or notice the weapon pointed in her direction. 

Her hand raises to wiggle her fingers in a silent hello, grinning a pearly-white smile with a golden-tooth in the right-hand corner. The terror that Ben experiences slightly disbands from this simple outcome, believing that, perhaps, he’s overreacting until a low-grumbled growl alerts him to the male standing behind her; a chocolate-skinned thickly-muscled man that overfills his tunic, a scowl that distracts him from the others’ hands clutching a highly-used battle-ax trussed in a wool strap at its base.

Sweat trickles at the border of his hairline, dribbling down his neck and wet the back of his shirt, sticking to the skin. There’s fretting in his bag as Yoda dives deeper among their supplies to hide from the criminals. 

Ben knew he could handle anything that the woods threw at him, but there’s not a chance he could survive the twists that Kira hurled at his head.

Kira palms his blade, careful not to cut her skin, and forces the pointed end down to the woodwork, despite Ben’s strength, and relocations to his side, taking a profound inhale. “You smell that?” the flooring groans with her footsteps as she lends forward. “Take a deep breath and really let that seep in.” She exhales in satisfaction but the ambition of making vomiting sounds, or repulsing away from the direct source, is pressed down as Kira drags Ben further into the joint. 

All he could smell was the soured burning oil of decaying food, ripped onions drizzled in a gaze of urine and blood, crisp unwashed clothing, and bodily fluids that should be considered unnatural to mankind.

He didn’t even want to ask about the white humanly-shaped border painted on the ground.

Gulping, he follows Kira’s dominating lead to flank behind as she calls out erratically to different customers. She asks a pudgy man named Bruiser if there’s blood on the collar of his knitted sweater as Kira drags him over to see. She waves hello to one of the older women upstairs, who lends against the railing in an olive-green dress, inquiring about her daughter who’s apparently starting university next month. 

Then Kira cheers, grabbing somebody’s drink of rum to swing a sip of when she spots a black-maned man named Vladimir. 

“I didn’t know they released you from prison, Vlad!” Their steel cups clanked in celebration over his freedom. “Or did you break out again?” She offers a wink and Vladimir smirks, nodding his head with hooded eyes, swaying at the length of her body, before having another sip of the drink. 

Ben almost jerks the motion to reach his hand out, tempted to grasp his fingers around the fat neck of the drunken man who, not-so-secludedly, turns as Kira steps away from his table and looks at her figure from behind. The blood boils in his veins but it traps down when a squeal echo in the tavern. 

“Goldie!” Kira calls out towards a silver-headed woman who lifts her head, having been face down on the filthy table jumbled with ale-stained empty ironed cups and rats stealing the bits of food crumbles that laid forgotten at her feet. She fusses a short, cleaning the dried drool that coated her arm to look their direction, fluttering a lopsided grin that exposed her yellow-fermented teeth that matched the blushed-toned coloring of her nose. Her ill-pink dress, covered in questionable spoils, slacked at the base of her collarbones but the woman, Goldie as Kira said, smiles in recognition, and Ben could see the bloodshot veins in her eyes. 

The woman is obviously intoxicated, avidly slurring her words to attempt a conversation when Kira takes the empty seat, pushing away the pile of dishes that have been licked clean. 

“My, my—” she burps, patting her chest to excuse another that smelled of pickled fish and raisins. “June I spy a queeny!” Goldie leans forward with the  _ tsp  _ of her tongue, narrowing her eyes at the younger woman before tilting her head to the side and finds Ben, hunching his broad shoulders with a nervous look that searches around and awkwardly standing behind Kira.

There’s a hum of amusement from the older woman, straightening her back with sudden eagerness to clumsily fix her clothing, showing off the wrinkled peek of skin in the valley of her breasts. “‘Tis a prince I bid for a night, lass.” Goldie moves back on her chair, propping her chest forward, and widens her legs towards Ben, hiking the skirt up to show her dirt-smudged ankles. His face turns bright pink and he could feel his ears heating up from the attention. 

Ben turns away from the old lady’s pursuit, focusing his vision on the frames over an old fireplace. “What a schilling for a lad—” Kira is in a fit giggles, concealing her lips behind the palm of her hand but her shaking shoulders gave it away. “as big as you! Two for a barrel of ale to drink with I.” He coughs, not wanting to imagine the seriousness of what Goldie had in mind. 

She gives another snort, winking at Kira with a large grin. “Squat on redwood before the belles do,” The same shade of tomato colors Kira’s high cheeks, silencing her chuckles in an instant and stares at Goldie with a look of horror but the old lady doesn’t converse another thought before smacking her dried lips together, turning to the passing of ale at the next table. “Spare lass and I a toast!” Her hand smacks flat on the wooden table and she raises on shaky legs. “I view a hitching! ” Wobbling towards the bar, the crowded path clears for the old lady and there’s a commotion between the bartender and Goldie. 

“Did you understand anything she said?” Ben shyly moves to sit on the vacant seat, grazing over her hair to see the whispering heads of fellow patrons who stared at them with too-much interest, but he could see the deepening color on her skin as she tries to hide by turning to the fading fire nearby.

After a wave of silence, she delivers with a clearing of her throat. “Consider yourself blessed not to have understood anything.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Goldie's Faceclaim (love ET but she popped into my head as Goldie)](https://www.gstatic.com/tv/thumb/persons/19595/19595_v9_bd.jpg)   
> 
> 
> **triggers:**   
>  \- criminals drinking and promopting past/current violence   
>  \- references to under-age/ legal prostitution and underage drinking   
>  \- references to rotten food   
>  \- lying to major character / giving false hope.


	5. please read

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> not a chapter update; but please read.

Hi, hello!

I know many of you have been waiting for this work to be updated with a new chapter for some (7 months... oops) time and I would like to apologize for that. As much as I would like to continue working on this, I made the decision to orphan this work in order to rewrite the entire story. I started working on this AU nearly a year ago on a whim without a real outline or route to go by. As much as it pains me to permanently 'close' it on AO3, I need to in order to give you guys a better story with a richer plotline and even more sherigans from these idiots. After a year of writing, during this crazy pandemic and my own life being drawn under a scope, I'm happy to say I have found my flow, pace, and method. I've been currently reworking the outline so my only hope is that between my other projects, I can find the time to work on this series because the fun stuff is really there.

Even though there were only four chapters, I want to thank you all for reading and following along! I promise it make this new version even more fun and thrilling than what I originally planned. ❤️ This work will be renamed at some point in the future, but if you're interested in knowing when the next version will be uploaded, please follow me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/theyellowsaber) or sub to my AO3 profile for all updates on my works! 

I love you all, and thank you for understanding. ❤️

xoxo, Mel. 

**Author's Note:**

> Any and all criticism is welcomed, whether you write it in the comment or DM me on Twitter/Tumblr! I would really love to read your feedback and learn about what can be improved!
> 
> I would also like to kindly remind everybody that I do not have a beta to look over my grammar or overall work. I do this all on my own when I have time from work, my other projects, and studying. So if there's any mistake I had made, please let me know via Twitter so I can fix it!
> 
> Find me over at -- 
> 
> Tumblr: @theyellowlightsaber  
> Twitter: @theyellowsaber


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